PreCode Romance
by sodalicious
Summary: In the mid-1930s New York, around the end of the Jazz Age, amidst the Great Depression, and on the brink of World War II, the lives of two young people clash as they struggle in a war of their own against a mob boss who runs the city. (Note: Please heed the rating seriously)
1. Kuno Tatewaki, Part 1

**Pre-Code Romance **

**By Sodalicious**

**  
Chapter one: Tatewaki Kuno - Part 1**

Where do I start…

Three pair of hands fussed over her, fixing her hair, retouching her makeup, and adjusting her silver one-piece, luminous even under the dim fluorescent lighting backstage. Voices near and far babbled, shouted, and ranted about dance numbers, missing performers, and broken stage props. Everybody needed something, and nobody had anything. The loud music from the stage carried over to the thin wall and curtains making the crew and showgirls irritable.

The young attractive woman sighed and batted away an anonymous hand powdering her face. She applied another layer of rouge on her full lips with painstaking precision. The stage director shouted something about a change in choreography causing her to mar her porcelain face with a scowl.

Outside the backstage, french bistro style tables cluttered around the stage and dance floor. To the left, a rather large ensemble of trumpet players, musicians with bongos, a sax player, and other miscellaneous instrumentalists worked magic with their hands and feet, tapping to the mambo rhythm. Waiters dressed entirely in white briskly walked back and forth, each balancing trays lined up with cocktails and margaritas. Zoot suits and tuxedos filled the tables, accompanied by willowy, posh gowns and evening dresses, sparkling under the fluorescent lights. Drinks were tipped, waiters were tipped, and the customers were tipsy.

Private booths were clouded with cigar smoke and heavy with perfume. The dim overhead lamps obscured the patrons' faces as they rumbled with laughter. Slinky slender women with page-boy haircuts and long pearl necklaces brushing against their exposed neck and upper chests surrounded these booths, hitching up their skirts and bending over extra low. But when the house lights were lowered to a dusky haze, all the customers fell silent, all heads turning expectedly to the stage.

A lone curvy figure wrapped in silver beads swaying with every step she took approached center stage and into the spotlight. Her bob cut hair gleamed under the blue lights and washed her in a blue silhouette. Men held their breaths, eyes glued to the main attraction of the club – the reason why they came, the reason why they stayed.

Akane stood proudly wearing a silver form-fitting gown with a long slit on one side. Silver sequins sparkled as she extended her leg out of the opening. She brought the microphone to her lips, her rose petal lips curving into a coy smile. She eyed the particularly wealthy patrons in the booths and began to sing.

"Where do I begin?  
To tell the story of how great a love can be  
The sweet love story that is older than the sea  
The simple truth about the love he brings to me  
Where do I start?"

He shifted in his seat, drumming his fingers on the window ledge of the car. Off white leather covered the inside of the car, spotless and glossy As the classic white Phantom II Rolls Royce smoothly cruised down the busy avenue of New York City, he stared out the window, the passing lights and glittering, glowing, flickering lights unregistered by his dark azure eyes. He glanced at the side mirror to his boss sitting in the backseat.

Tatewaki Kuno lounged in the backseat, aloof and breathing deeply. If not for his open eyes, his body appeared to be in a state of sleep. His once cavernous, handsome face was wrinkled and blotchy with age. His thick eyebrows grew grey, instead of the expressive black of his youth. A neatly trimmed moustache under his nose also grew white characterizing the old man he became.The white hat shadowed his face, his hands encased in white gloves rested on his lap. Next to him lay a smooth white cane with a large diamond catching the lights from outside sources. Suddenly, he lunged forward slightly, his body racking with coughs.

Up front in the passenger seat, he watched impassively as Kuno continued to cough. Just as impassively, he watched when Kuno took out a bottle and swallowed two pills. His eyes gleamed with amusement before falling back into a vacant gaze. His knee shook rapidly, a habit he picked up from his younger years. The chauffer next to him smirked knowingly.

Ranma ignored the look and returned his attention to the passing scenery. He adjusted his black tie, jerked his head to the side to crack his neck, and breathed out deeply. So far, there had been twenty-six assassination attempts made on Kuno in the past year,he counted. But Kuno, not only clever and shrewd, had a talent for survival; the first smart survival tactic was to hire Ranma, himself, as personal bodyguard. He glanced at his vague reflection on the car window. Because he was the best.

"Like a summer rain  
That cools the pavement with a patent leather shine  
He came into my life and made the living fine  
And gave a meaning to this empty world of mine  
He fills my heart"

She sighed, wiping her forehead with her sleeves. The smell of chicken soup permeated throughout the apartment. She stirred the pot, blankly, eyes glazed over. Mechanically, she turned to the wooden cutting board and resumed chopping the carrots. But meticulously chopped carrots were already floating in the soup. A man's voice, dark and eerie, narrating a murder mystery drifted in from the living room, accompanied by sounds of creaking doors and high pitched sceams. Her two sons followed suit, letting out surprised shrieks of their own. She frowned, noting in her mind to restrict their radio hours. They should be studying or reading like all good children.

A clock on the wall rang nine times, earning a worried glance from the woman. She looked out the window into the night. Gently, she set down the knife, and walked into the living room. She smiled at the two boys who were staring off into space, listening intently to the radio, their mouths slightly parted. Handing them a couple of coins, she told them to take a break and get some fresh air. They were in a relatively safe neighborhood in Long Island. The kids would be fine strolling to the corner deli. She encouraged them to play for a while on the roof, to which they hopped around excitedly. They grabbed their flashlights, tents, sleeping bags, and with a few snacks from their mother, they rushed out.

Kasumi smiled warmly after them, softly closing the door. Back in the kitchen, she turned off the stove and tossed the carrots into the trash. Her eyes kept trailing to the clock, the smiling cat with the swinging tail annoying her greatly. Humming a tuneless song, she began wiping the kitchen counter, waiting for her husband.

"He fills my heart with very special things  
With angels' songs, with wild imaginings  
He fills my soul with so much love  
That anywhere I go, I'm never lonely  
With him along, who could be lonely  
I reach for his hand, it's always there"

He belched loudly and obnoxiously. Men like him lounged around drinking in the sights and generally being a good sport to the female employees, the only kind the strip bar had. All he could see were lithe, full bodies barely covered by string bikinis hanging on poles, teasing the customers, sinfully dancing to the music. The dark lights and warm atmosphere raised his temperature, making him sweat profusely. Empty bottles of beer were scattered around him. Waving a fistful of dollars, he signaled a girl over to him.

The girl sensuously sauntered to him, stuffing the money in her top. She sat on his lap, grinding into him with the deafening music. Some of the observers cheered and shouted lewd remarks. She turned around and sat facing him, continuing her grind on his very noticeably growing member; she dipped low and kissed him. His breathing hitched and he ran his fingers softly over the peak of her breasts, his other hand squeezing her bottom. She broke away from him and slapped him sharply across the face.

He grabbed her wrist before she could stalk off, and dragged her back to him. Motioning to a nearby waiter, they exchanged a few words before he and the girl headed upstairs. Once upstairs he drew her close to him, sucking on delicate spot on the curve of her neck. She moaned loudly, rubbing her practically naked form up and down his body. She guided his hand down her chest, her hips, and to her thighs. Before they stumbled into a room, she stealthily drew out his wallet and threw it onto a table. He didn't care.

They fell to a mattress that lacked pillows and sheets. He stretched his body over hers, covering her almost completely. Her hands traveled down his chest, down his abdomen, and further down.

A dingy lamp, the only light source in the room, stood on the table next to the bed where the wallet was tossed. As the man and woman picked up a fast and rough rhythm, the table shook, making the lamp flicker. The wallet fell opened on the floor. Inside the wallet, a business card drifted out, a name printed on the yellow index paper: Jedidiah Jones.

"How long does it last?  
Can love be measured by the hours in a day?  
I have no answers now, but this much I can say  
I'm going to need him till the stars all burn away  
And he'll be there"

Akane raised an arm high above her head, throwing her head back. The spotlights concentrated on her bathed her in orange and red lights. The orange aurora enveloping her heightened the heat growing in the audience. She glowed like a dessert mirage, and men edged closer to assure themselves she was real. Her throat rumbled as her husky voice carried over seducing its listeners. She brought her arm down slowly, trailing her hand down the side of her breast, down the curve of her waist, and over her hips.

Rows of lights illuminated each step of the stage. They flickered in hypnotizing patterns, synchronized with the rhythm produced from the band.

Pausing for a second, she licked her lips and swept her gaze over the enraptured audience. Her hand traveled back up over her flat stomach, trailing up between her breasts, and buried itself behind her neck into her short tousled hair. Wolfish whistles and howls traveled from every direction surrounding her. Drunk with the sensation, she smiled widely, silent laughter pouring out from her glistening lips.

"He fills my heart with very special things  
With angels' songs, with wild imaginings  
He fills my soul with so much love  
That anywhere I go, I'm never lonely  
With him along, who could be lonely  
I reach for his hand, it's always there"

Kasumi regarded her spick and span kitchen, the dinner long gone cold on the dining room table. Only the sound of her breaths echoed in her head, and the ticking of that damn feline clock on the wall. The clock struck eleven, its curved tail swinging gaily from side to side. She cried out, and ripped the clock from the wall, throwing it across the kitchen. She ran to the dining room and swung her arms across the table. The dinner arrangements fell to the floor. The cacophony of broken porcelains and silverware resonated around her.

She trudged back into the kitchen and stood over the sink. Hot running water warmed her trembling hands. She bit back a sob, hiccupping briefly. Her hands came to cover her face and her body crouched down to the floor. Laughter from the radio muffled her cries, and her apron soaked up her tears. Laughter. Always laughter. Everybody was always laughing at her.

"Like a summer rain  
That cools the pavement with a patent leather shine  
He came into my life and made the living fine  
And gave a meaning to this empty world of mine  
He fills my heart"

Palm trees swayed in the summer breeze, the stars in the night sky shined especially brightly, and everyone was fueled with passion. People stared as a Rolls Royce slid itself to a stop in front of the large club, colored lights flashing everywhere. Trumpets and saxophones mixed with various drums could be heard drifting from inside the vibrating loft. Anxiously they watched the door of the car swing open.

Ranma stepped out, running his hand through his hair. Entrances like these always made him nervous. His black silk suit smoothed out as he took a step, revealing his tall and well built stature, his broad shoulders accentuated by the suit tailored specifically for him. A few gasps and exclamations were heard from a number of women lined up in front of the front doors, and they tried to catch his eye. He took no notice of them and waited to the side of the car while the chauffer opened the door for Kuno.

Kuno climbed out slowly yet gracefully, like a man who's always had the door opened for him. He straightened his back, deeply breathing in the city air and absorbing the city lights. There was no place in the world more magical than New York City in the night time. His amused eyes swept over the chic and modish club goers currently ogling at him. He was, after all, the owner of the club. Tapping his ivory cane with a single click on the glittery sidewalk, illuminated with blue and purple hues, he walked into the club.

Ranma followed close behind, assessing his surroundings, on guard for anything suspicious. His crystal blue eyes swept the crowd and passed over the swooning ladies.

The grand doors opened widely for the two, the music swallowing them seductively. A few bodyguards spread out taking their usual positions within the club.

Kuno and Ranma smoothly glided into the club without pause as the head maitre d' rushed up to them and guided them to a booth always reserved for Kuno. Ranma took his usual seat to the right of Kuno, and both men looked to the silver figure on the stage.

"How long does it last?  
Can love be measured by the hours in a day?  
I have no answers now, but this much I can say  
I'm going to need him till the stars all burn away  
And he'll be there"

He opened the door to his apartment, sluggardly. His body tilted to the right crashing into the door frame. He shook his head sharply and peered into the apartment. The lights were off. Frowning, he flicked the light switch.

She looked up from her seat at the dining table. Not a word was spoken as husband and wife regarded each other. His frown deepened, and he opened his mouth but nothing came out. With a scoff, he tugged off his tie, turning his back on her to hang his hat and coat by the door. A small sharp click pricked his ear, but in his drunken state he shrugged it off. She called out his name in a strangled but low voice.

Sneering, he turned around ready to tell her to fuck off. But froze when he saw her standing a yard away, with a gun pointed straight at him. A thin trail of tears dripped down her pale cheeks. Before he could say a word, a loud sound rang out and sharp pain engulfed his chest, making it hard to breathe. His eyes stayed locked on hers, afraid to look down at himself, afraid to move.

Kasumi was on the floor, crying, the gun by her knees.

Jedidiah felt himself falling, and falling. He squeezed his eyes shut, anticipating the hard unmerciful floor to break his fall, but he just kept falling.

"Where do I begin?  
To tell the story of how great a love can be  
The sweet love story that is older than the sea  
The simple truth about the love he brings to me  
Where do I start?"

The response was deafening. Claps, cheers, whistles, thundered across the loft over the music. She laughed delightedly, bowing left and right. Waiters rushed to the tables to start serving anew. Drinks were once again dispersed among the chattering patrons. Her eyes searched the audience as the house lights were raised, and the band started up a random mambo song for the guests. She caught the intense gaze from two men sitting in the farthest booth. Smiling beautifully, Akane ran into the waiting arms of Tatewaki Kuno.

He grabbed her possessively with a satisfied smile, running his hand down her curves and up again. He leered down at her and motioned for her sit on his lap while she kissed him soundly on the lips. She winked and headed towards the back door behind stage. Giving him a sultry look over her shoulder, she disappeared behind the stage door. Kuno followed a few minutes later, Ranma behind him like the good bodyguard he was.

In her private room, Kuno sat comfortably on her armchair. She had her back to him and dutifully mixed him his drink. Stealthily she slipped white powder into his drink, stirring it thoroughly. A harmless smile graced her face as he drank.

Kuno darkly stalked over to her, and slammed her into the wall as he roughly felt her up.

Akane responded, welcoming his advances.

Ranma waited outside the door, smoking.

She pushed him onto her small makeshift bed and straddled him. Unbuckling his belt, she gave him a feline smile, predatory and teasing. He breathed heavily – an old man, a very excited old man. She bent down and took his member into her mouth. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and let out a loud and raspy moan.

The unmistakable vocal sound carried outside the door, and Ranma paused.

Kuno panted, his old body laden with pleasure. She withdrew and finished the job with her hands. He sighed satisfied and nodded off into oblivion.

Akane lifted herself off his body, straightening her dress. She took a paranoid glance around her private room. At the sink, she scrubbed her hands with rubbing alcohol and drenched her mouth with mouthwash, spitting and gargling innumerable amount of times. She walked over to Kuno's unconscious form and poked at him. He failed to respond. Grinning, she rushed to the door and swung it open. A startled gasp escaped her lips and her eyes widened.

Ranma was blocking the doorway. Before she could say a word, he attacked her.

The door slammed closed, and nobody heard her cry out.

* * *

**  
End notes**: Lyrics of the song courtesy of "Where to I Begin" by Shirley Bassey. you can hear the song at youtube. 


	2. Zha Mu Tsu

**Besame Mucho  
**_Besame, besame mucho __  
__como si fuera esta la noche __  
__la ultima vez__  
_  
_Besame, besame mucho __  
__que tengo miedo a perderte __  
__perderte despues__  
_  
_Quiero tenerte muy cerca __  
__mirarme en tus ojos __  
__verte junto a mi _

_Piensa que tal vez mañana __  
__yo ya estare lejos, __  
__muy lejos de aqui__  
_  
_Besame, besame mucho __  
__como si fuera esta noche __  
__la ultima vez _

_Besame, besame mucho __  
__que tengo miedo a perderte,  
__perderte despues_

* * *

**Chapter two: Zha Mu Tsu**

She knew she loved him the first time their eyes met. In him, she saw forever. In him, she saw freedom. In him, she saw beauty. In him, she saw herself.

Xian Pu had been standing at the bus stop, on her way back home from her awful job. It was a low-class job with very little pay, but the Chinese weren't favored here in this white-man's land. She had to scrap a living for herself and her grandmother somehow. It made it worse that one of her clients that she worked for had to be a Japanese woman. Nabiki Ozawa.

She hated that woman. Not only because of her nationality, but because Ozawa treated her like dirt. Xian Pu scoffed. They were both Asian women with no rights, no citizenships in this stranger's world, no respect, no names, and that Japanese brat actually strutted around as if she owned the city. If she weren't the girlfriend ofa wealthy mob boss, Nabiki Ozawa would've been scavenging trash for food.

But nevertheless, despite her opinions about the woman, Xian Pu needed money, and money was something Ozawa had lots of. So, hanging her pride by the door everyday from four to six, she cleaned Ozawa's apartment for a couple of dollars a day.

Well, she sighed, it was better than selling her body to dirty old men.

"Dreary weather, ain't it?"

Xian Pu looked to her left and saw a young man, well built, a tad taller than her. He was shaking his head about, drops of rain falling from his hair. She stared at him curiously, and he glanced back at her.

She almost gasped. He had the most beautiful blue bellflower eyes, unusual for an Asian. Then, again, she was told her violetones were quite rare as well. As if reading her thoughts, he leaned in closer so that they stood eye to eye.

"I don't know if you get this all the time, but, you have really pretty eyes."

"Thank you," she mumbled. She did get that all the time, but that didn't stop the blush from blooming across her cheeks.

"I'm Ranma, by the way, Saotome Ranma," he said with a crooked smile.

She smiled back at him, shaking his offered hand, "Xian Pu, Lao Xian Pu."

Kiss me, kiss me many times  
As if this night were  
for the last time

A young woman holding a small suitcase stepped off a bus. It roared off, leaving the frail figure in a cloud of dust. The drizzling rain dampening her clothes making the dust cake over her, and she grimaced unable towipe it off. Taking a quick glance around the area, she walked into a nearby diner, holding a small crumpled piece of paper in her hand.

Akane opened the door and looked around at the random people eating and talking. It was the area of the city occupied by the working class populace. Pearl necklaces and tuxedos were nowhere to be seen. Instead, booths and tables were seated with women wearing bandanas, holding coffee cups with calloused hands from years of working machinery in factories. Men in newsboy caps and suspenders, sat hunched from a lifetime of manual labor, reading the daily newspapers. The gray rain outside kept most people in a mellow mood. Hues of beige and brown colored the diner. Except for a flash of purple.She spottedan odd couple, a man with a pigtail and a girl with purple hair. She raised an eyebrow, purple?

Shaking her head, she walked to one of the waitresses behind the counter. The lady had a sharp face, her lips overly rouged with red, and her eyes heavy with black makeup. Her whispy auburn hair was piled atop her oval face into a messy bun. And her pink uniform was dulled from age and wash, her once white apron now yellow.

"Hi, can you help me find this place?" Akane implored. She showed the woman the address written on the piece of paper.

"That's quite far from here. All the way uptown," the waitress looked over at Akane's scruffy appearance and her eyes softened, "here, girlie, why don't you take this cup o' joe, on the house, and later, take a cab."

Akane's body sagged as she plopped herself on a stool. Throwing a grateful smile, she nodded, "Thanks."

Ranma rubbed his hands nervously. He knew he should stop seeing her. His father was becoming more insistent about it. More resentful. However, after a month of trying to forget her, he found himself looking for her at the bus stops, in the streets, around the corners. Fortunately, they both lived in the same area, so they crossed paths often. Something about her excited him, thrilled him, teased him with promises not made. He willingly drowned in her presence, to a world away from this harsh reality.Her soft, thick purple hair, flowing gently in the wind, stole his breath away. She was a vision to him. His words spilled from his mouth on their own, trying to get her to stay with him. So far so good, he thought, as they sat in a small booth at the diner.

"So what kind of job are you doing now?" Xian Pu wanted to know.

"Well, uh, last time I worked at the meat packing factory downtown," he laughed, scratching the back of his head. "For now, I deliver stuff from the market."

She nodded, peering at him from under her eyelashes.

"How about you?"

"I'm still cleaning apartments, but my highest paying client… is gone."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," he responded. "Do you want me to help you find another?"

She didn't want to fall for him. But his smiles, his clear-sparkling eyes, and his boyish looks, made it so hard to say "no." She watched his long fingers flex around the cup, and her eyes drifted to his Adam's apple bobbing as he drank in gulps of water. She wanted to feel his calloused fingers run down her sides, and she wanted to softly kiss his throat. And she wanted his blue eyes to forever be on her.

So, she didn't resist when he led her to the diner, to the movies, to the parks, and everywhere in the city. Suddenly, the rain seemed sweeter. The sun was brighter. And she could almost touch the clouds, and hold their soft white cotton within her hands. Everyday, he only got sweeter, gentler, and more charming. She was swimming in a bed of roses, and she never wanted to wake up.

Moans drifted down the hallway lined up with apartments with a blurry, grimy window at the end. Yellowed wallpapers were peeling at the edges, and the wooden floors were uneven. A damp smell drifted down the hall, and a single light bulb swayed slightly, flickering spastically. It went unnoticed by the two amorous people busy in the heat of kiss.

He held her against the wall, and grabbed her thighs, raising her legs to wrap around his waist securely. She cuppedhis face and deepened the kiss, running her tongue against his. A hand slid under her skirt, tracing the edges of her underwear. A soft whimper escaped her with anticipation. All she could think was more… how she wanted more, always more. He was like wine, like the opium her people smoked to a trancelike state, late at night. She just couldn't stop, and couldn't stop him.

He slid into her, standing in the dingy deserted hallway of her building. She kissed him desperately to muffle both their cries. But she didn't care if one of her neighbors spotted them. Ecstasy seeped into her like honey, and as of the moment she didn't even care if her own grandmother stepped out of the apartment. She just wanted to reach bliss, the burning bliss that only he could bring her.

Then she saw white, pure white flowing up her body, weakening her to a state of euphoria. A thin layer of sweat glistened on her forehead, and she tried to slow her breathing. They shared lingering kisses in the aftermath till her lips were bruised and swollen tight. She pulled him towards her again, ready to continue, but he stood back.

"We can't, we might get caught," he softly said.

"I don't care, Ranma, please," she pulled at his shoulders urgently, but he held back. Instead he kissed her gently once more and adjusted her skirt properly.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" He insisted.

She huffed in frustration and shoved him away.

In response, he grinned his trademark cheeky smile, and walked down the stairs whistling.

Ranma couldn't believe how great things were going. With a quick look around the area, he leaped on top of a fence, and strolled along the metal bar, hands stuffed in his pockets. It was late in the evening, the moon his only company. The usually busy crowded streets of the city were bare and silent. Only the dust remained, sweeping across the sidewalks. Dark buildings hummed at rest, and cold shadows stretched from the corners. Torn sheets of newspapers lined the the sidewalks, and bags of trash littered the alleyways. A few broken, discarded bicycles creaked in the wind.

But the shadows and darkness of the city failed to register in Ranma's mind. Histhoughtswandered to her again, his gorgeous girlfriend. Too bad she didn't ask him to stay, but he knew her grandmother would have a seizure if she saw them together. Already, Chinese and Japanese strangers whispered about them, and shook their heads in disapproval as they passed by. To Ranma, they were just blind old fools who didn't know a great thing if it was shoved in their faces.

"Where were you?"

Ranma entered his apartment and ignored his father's question. It was a small apartment, with just one bedroom, his father's. Ranma slept on the sofa by the radio, their prized possession. Two lamps provided sufficient lighting and a coffee table stood in the middle of the apartment.

He shrugged in response to his father's question and sat on the sofa, switching on the radio.

"I said, where were you, boy?" Genma pestered, "You were with that Chinese girl again weren't you?"

Ranma rolled his eyes, and remained silent.

"Oh, kami, if your mother knew, she'd probably be spinning in her grave!" Genma moaned. "I'm warning you. I warned you before, and I'm going to tell you again. Stop seeing that girl. She's Chinese and you're Japanese. It'll never work."

"I'm a man and she's a woman, that's all, pop," Ranma bit back, "so lay off."

"Them Chinese are not to be trusted! Those sneaky bastards," his father growled, "have you already forgotten the history I taught you? In the..."

"...the Sino-Japanese War, the Japanese invaded Liaodong Peninsula, and brutally continued to Manchuria, killings thousands and thousands of our people and destroying our resources, blah blah blah, yes grandmother, I remember," Xian Pu inwardly sighed as her grandmother correctly guessed who she went out with.

"But that was almost half a century ago! This is America, now, grandmother," she continued. "We are the second generation in America, and we people from the east need to stick together against the suppression of the white man."

"Yes that is true, child, but the Japanese are not to be trusted!" her grandmother sharply struck the floor with her cane. "You forget, they are still occupying our country, threatening and controlling our people and our lands as we speak! They are terrorizing not only China but Korea as well!" Her grandmother paused to catch her breath. "They are sly and prideful people who only use you and steal your things!"

"Oh grandmother," Xian Pu walked over and respectfully bowed her head before retreating into her room.

Her grandmother's voice carried over to her as she closed the door, "Don't see that sneaky bastard again! If you see him again, I'll kick you out of my apartment! I forbid it!"

Kiss me, kiss me many times,  
I'm so afraid I will lose you,  
Lose you later on

Akane stepped out of the taxi and looked up at the grand building. Posh women in silk dresses and strings of beaded necklaces, escorted by well-groomed men, walked in and out of the revolving doors. The gold plated borders and tables from inside the lobby shined brightly enough for her to see outside. Doormen in red and gold uniforms greeted passersby with a smile and a tilt of their caps. Instrumental jazz from the lobby drifted out of the doors.

Coming from a rather impoverished surburban area in Long Island, she found herself unable to move. Her head tilted back, her mouth wide opened, as her line of view stretched up into the sky to the top of the building. She could barely make out stone carvings of gargoyles. Gay laughter broke her reverie, a woman wore a headband with sashes that were slung over her bare shoulders. A set of long beads swayed as she briskly walked, her arms clinging around the elbow of a man. His tailcoat trailing behind him, he glanced at Akane as he breezed by. She imagined he gave a friendly nod in her direction, but she wasn't sure.

She glanced down at her grubby mud-brown outfit and sighed. Before she could change her mind, she rushed into the building as if expecting the two doormen to stop her. People stared at Akane running across the marble floor. When she reached the front desk, a concierge regarded her with distaste.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for somebody," Akane drew out a picture from her skirt pocket and held it up for the concierge. "Do you know who this person is?"

The lady in uniform seemed to ponder for a moment before recognition flitted over her eyes. She gasped, lifting her hand to her mouth. "Why, yes! Everybody around here knew her." A curious co-worker neaby looked over at the photo.

Akane narrowed her eyes.

"That's Miss Ozawa, Miss Nabiki Ozawa," the woman continued.

"What do you mean 'knew her'? Where is she now?"

"Why… don't you read the papers?" they looked at Akane incredulously. Akane shook her head, and the woman answered, "Miss Ozawa is… dead. She was murdered a month ago in her apartment, here."

I want to have you very close to me  
To see myself reflected in your eyes  
To see you close to me

Father was right, he shouldn't have bothered. But how could he say "no" to that soft doll-like face and those purple lilac eyes? And a day without burying his face in her glistening dark violet strands? Never. However, the fact remained that she sucked his already meager wallet dry. Diners and simple cafés weren't enough anymore. Expensive French restaurants and stuffy opera theaters and silly bead necklaces were all she wanted. And due to her particular tastes, Ranma had to balance two jobs, giving him little time for anything else.

And then the mother of all money-depleting days arrived: her birthday.

Currently, she was giggling and batting her eyelashes in that magical way only she could accomplish, leaning on him as they walked down the streets of Chinatown. Adorned around her neck was the silk scarf he had given her the moment they met. It had cost a fortune, and so far, he found nothing beneficial about it, especially since he had been saving up that money to buy his father a pocket watch. But at least she was happy. They were walking to the park, and he was alone in his plight for spending more than intended in the restaurant they just had walked out of.

"Ranma! I want to go in there!" She pointed excitedly at a darkly lit shop lined up among many others. The sign said 'Zha's Chinese Antiques.' Not very creative there, he thought, but effective.

"Why?" was all he had to say.

"That shop is owned by the most wealthy, successful, Chinese American in the city! He has shops all over." Xian Pu's eyes glowed with admiration. "Some say he even has ties to Ted Kuno."

"The millionaire mob boss?" Ranma asked skeptically. After all, Zha was Chinese and Ted Kuno, or Tatewaki Kuno, was Japanese.

"Oh yes, that is why there have been fewer fights lately between our gangs and the Japanese gangs," she pressed on, "Because Zha and Kuno have been 'getting along' so to speak."

"You sure know a lot about the two crime bosses," he commented.

She smiled coyly, tapping her nose with her forefinger, "We Chinese are very nosy people, and we like to know what's going on with everybody in the community."

He nodded and held the door open, letting out someone who was exiting the shop. A young woman with shoulder length brown hair and a white bow gracing the top of her head, walked out and glanced at him. He didn't see her freeze in her steps, he didn't see her widen herbrown eyes, he didn't hear her whisper his name. He and a girl in purple entered the shop never once looking back at the female stranger.

Ukyo Kuonji stared at his disappearing back, his arms linked with a girl who was Chinese by the looks of her outfit. A feeling of dread slowly grew in the pit of her stomach. With a frown, she fled the area.

As soon as they entered, Xian Pu nearly squealed with delight. Her pride for her nationality overwhelmed her as she gazed at the many delicate and intricate items from her country. Porcelain and gold-trimmed jewelry boxes, red pouches with gold threads weaved into dragons and phoenixes, surrounded by smooth pendants, bracelets, and rings, all made her heart pound with longing.

She sat primly on one of the beautifully carved wooden chairs, directly from her mainland, and breathed in the musky wood incense looming in the air. Small golden bells adorned with red and gold strings hung from the ceiling all around her. Treasure chests and small cabinets exquisitely detailed with dragons, symbols, and chinese characters lined the walls. She felt right at home.

Ranma wandered off, a glint of metal catching his eye in the back of the shop. His mouth fell open when he came upon the back wall. Weaponry of every kind was hung against the wall, the steel of swords glowing in the dim light. His eyes traveled from the broadswords, to tai chi swords, to the gorgeous butterfly swords.Shuang gou's, and twin kan dao's were propped inside display cases nearby.

He walked reverently to the Lungchuan Dragon Fist Sword. Memories of his youth training with his father filled his mind, and his fingers wrapped themselves around the scabbard. His other hand grabbed the hilt of the sword. Holding it an arms length away, sword parallel to the floor, he unsheathed the sword slowly.

"Beautiful, isn't?"

Xian Pu cried out and jumped up from the chair. "Sorry, I just wanted to try it out."

"No, please, be my guest," the man bowed lowly, "it's a pleasure to meet a lovely lady such as yourself."

She smiled and sat back down.

"I'm guessing you're Chinese by your dress."

She nodded.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?"

Xian Pu shook her head, and turned to him questioningly. "I'm sorry if this seems intrusive, but who are you?"

"Ah! How rude of me," the man with long black hair and absurdly thick glasses took a formal stance and bowed once more. "Allow me, I am Zha Mu Tsu, owner of this shop."

Xian Pu stared in shock at his bowing form. He was not at all what she imagined. She was somewhat disappointed. Nevertheless, she quickly returned the formal greeting. "I'm honored, my name is Lao Xian Pu."

She paused as he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. "If you don't mind, I'd like to give you a proper western greeting." His lips brushed lightly against the back of her hand, his eyes on hers the whole time.

Her lips slowly stretched into a smile.

"I noticed you walked in with a young man, Japanese if I saw correctly."

Xian Pu could only nod and tried to look uninterested. "Oh yes, he's just a friend. We grew up together." She giggled. "He has the silliest crush on me, but you know, we Chinese women prefer Chinese men." She winked.

Mu Tsu slowly smiled knowingly, "yes, I know."

"Hey Xian Pu! You gotta check this out!" A breathless voice carried out from the back.

She rolled her eyes and smiled apologetically at Mu Tsu. When they strolled further into the store, Xian Pu bit her tongue from gasping with awe and approval. Ranma was performing a training sequence with the Lungchuan Sword, and he moved as if he were the dragon god himself. His body twisted and spun, dancing around an imaginary opponent, the sword slicing through the air soundlessly. His eyes were electric and his muscles smoothly flexed under his skin. Xian Pu gazed longingly at his form, and wondered why he didn't look at her with those eyes.

A stinging clap interrupted Ranma's demonstration, and he turned nervously towards Mu Tsu. "Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to. I haven't seen one of these in a long time."

"Oh no, I'm honored to meet someone who's obviously very skilled with Chinese swordplay," Mu Tsu eyed Ranma inquisitively, "perhaps we can fight one day."

Ranma glanced at Xian Pu who was avoiding his eyes. "Uh, yeah, sure, we can spar. There are not many people who know martial arts around here, anyway."

"We should get going," she suggested suddenly. Ranma shrugged and followed her out, hanging the sword back on the wall. They were just about to leave, but were stopped by Mu Tsu. He walked over to them, his hands in his sleeves.

"Please, accept this," he said and withdrew one of his hands to reveal a gold hair pin with jade beads trailing down from one end, "a complimentary gift so you will come again."

Xian Pu sucked in her breath and reached out to grasp the offered pin. Her hand brushed warmly against Mu Tu's palm, and their eyes met in silence. Watching suspiciously on the side, Ranma opened his mouth to interject.

Then, the door swung open, bells ringing softly in the breeze. A young woman with short black hair, stood timidly in front of the doorway. Ranma immediately noticed that in the sun, her hair glowed blue. She stood with a suitcase heldin both hands in front of her. Her small frail body was barely covered by a rag that he supposed was a dress. She lifted her head and warm chocolate eyes stared back at him.

He couldn't grasp his thoughts or feelings when she looked at him. There appeared to be nothing particularly attractive or amazing about her hunched shoulders and grimy cheeks. But he was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to know her name. At least, her name.

Mu Tsu, distracted, looked towards the girl and adjusted his glasses. "Yes?"

She faltered and her velvet brown eyes rolled to the side uneasily. "Shed no tears until seeing the coffin," she murmured.

Silence reined the store for a few seconds before Mu Tsu replied, "Right." He turned to Xian Pu and Ranma and ushered them out briskly. "Thank you for visiting, I am most honored. Please don't hesitate to come again."

The young woman with short hair stepped to the side, as Xian Pu and Ranma left the shop. Mu Tsu guided her further into the store towards the backroom. Outside, Ranma lookedbackat the girl as the door swung shut. Through the glass door, he saw the back of her figure led by Mu Tsu's hand. She turned her head slightly over her shoulder as if feeling his gaze but never made eye contact as she disappeared behind a curtain of beads.

Thinking that perhaps by tomorrow  
I'll already be far away  
Very far from here.

Akane trudged into an alley, stumbling over a few trash bags. It seemed during the night, the city was filthier, dirtier, and more unpleasant. She curled up on the ground against a brick wall, clutching her suitcase protectively. Her eyes glazed over and for one fleeting moment she thought she could smell the delicious aroma of Kasumi's home cooked dinner, wafting down the alleyway. She could almost hear the pattering of Kasumi's little boys, running around the house. And the warmth from the radiator enveloped her shivering figure. Her mind drifted unwillingly to her other sister, now deceased. Tears ran down her cheeks unbidden, and she choked back a sob.

She wanted to run back home and just cry for a whole week with Kasumi. But she couldn't. She had to be strong. Without Nabiki, Akane had to be strong for the family. Kasumi had enough problems with her awful husband. Akane couldn't burden herself on her older sister anymore.

After learning of Nabiki's death, she called home and brokenly informed Kasumi of the news, both sisters cried over the phone before being disconnected by the phone operator. But before they were cut off, Akane managed to tell her sister that she wouldn't be coming home until the matter was settled. She was going to find Nabiki's murderer and there'll be hell to pay.She knew exactly where to start from reading Nabiki's letters. There was only one person, powerful enough, terrible enough, twisted enough to kill a woman like Nabiki – her sister's ex-boyfriend, Ted Kuno.

With renewed vigor, Akane stood up and walked back out in to the street. She had heard rumors that Kuno ran a couple of brothels in the area. She didn't like it, but it was a place to start.

She knocked on one of the doors and an attractively dirty and lanky woman opened the door. Her hair was also cut short like a flapper, and a headband, studded with fake diamonds, wrapped around her head. Black eye-liner thickly outlined her eyes and was drawn to a sharp point at the corner of her eyes, giving her an exotic facade. Her face was pasty and heavily layered with egg-white powder. She took a brief cursory look over Akane's worn out clothing and dirt-smudged skin. Bringing a cigarette to her mouth, she breathed in tiredly. "Well, what do you want?"

"I was wondering if I could work here."

The prostitute choked on the smoke and half-gagged, half-laughed out loud. She slowly opened her robe revealing her body barely covered in frilly lingerie, and she peered down at Akane critically, "Listen here girlie. You are way too small and way too young to be working in this dump. Look at you, too short and too curvy with fat. Men like their women tall and slender, like me."

Akane looked down at herself, before standing up straight to stare the prostitute down. "I don't care what you think of me. I'm here for my own reason, that's no concern of yours. So, either help me or get out of my way."

The slender woman regarded her thoughtfully. "You got spunk, kid. That's cute. But, Kuno doesn't like his brothels picking up random girls from the streets. He says that'll taint his business." She snorted. "You want to start somewhere go see Zha. Zha Mu Tsu. He sells girls, you see. Go to his store."

"Where can I find his store?" Akane felt both hope and dread blooming in her chest.

"In Chinatown, just ask around, they all know where it is," the prostitute shrugged, "now listen, this is the most important part. When you see him, say just one sentence and only one thing. Say, 'Shed no tears until seeing the coffin.' And he'll know."

"Shed no tears until seeing the coffin."

"That's right. Some sort of Chinese proverb, I hear," the woman threw her cigarette to the ground and snuffed it out with her high heels. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, kid." With that final comment, she retreated into the rundown building and slammed the door.

Akane dragged out a breath and turned resolutely in the direction that led to Chinatown.

Kiss me, kiss me many times  
As if this night were  
for the last time

Ranma entered his apartment with a loud sigh. Working two physically exerting jobs, trying to keep up with Xian Pu's demands were taking a toll on him. He felt like a married man already. He groaned.

He flicked on the lights and froze, spotting a person on the sofa.

"Ukyo, how did you get in here?"

"Your father let me in," she walked over to him, and helped him unbutton his jacket and unravel his tie.

"Where is he now?" Ranma stepped into the kitchen, leaving Ukyo to hang his clothing.

"Who knows? Probably at my dad's speakeasy, getting drunk together," Ukyo drawled as she trailed after him. "Where were you?"

"What?"

"I said, where were you?"

Ranma snorted, "you're starting to sound like Genma." He cooled his throat with cold refreshing water, clearing away the dust from the streets. He bent over and briefly washed his face in the kitchen sink. Ukyo had a towel readily held out for him which he took gratefully.

"I saw you with her today in Chinatown, Ranma," she accused. Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned on the kitchen counter. "I saw you and that Dumb Dora enter Mu Tsu's store."

"She's not a Dumb Dora," he sighed. "You're on a first name basis with Zha? Since when?"

"I'm his highest paying customer," she shrugged. "We get along well. And don't try to change the subject."

He scoffed and walked out into the living room. Ukyo meant a lot to him ever since they were children, but sometimes she was too overbearing and possessive for her own good, Ranma thought. He used to dream and believe that one day the two of them would marry and live their life in the city with kids of their own. But as they matured, the social ladder stretched far between them, and he couldn't relate with her anymore. Like most loaded members of the elite, she busied herself withmoney, booze, and socializing. Shamelessly, she flaunted her wealth like some goddamn accomplishment when, in truth, it was all her uncle's money.

After all, he was just a poor man's boy, scraping a living in the city, and she was the niece and only heir to Ted Kuno, multi-millionaire. He'll never know why she still hung around him.

"Ranma, I want you to stop seeing her," Ukyo implored, "she's doesn't deserve you! I—I could treat you well, you know that." She paused and stared into a corner. "Don't you – don't you know how much I – care about you?"

He sat silently on the sofa, his long legs spread out before him. He knew she was waiting for him to say the same. He would have said so gladly, but it was difficult. She wasn't the girl he grew up with. Something dark tainted her heart, and he didn't want any part of it.

"Ukyo," he sighed, "you're my best friend, and you always will be. I will always care for you." He bowed his head and stared at the floor. "But, I just can't give you more than that."

"She's no good for you! I'm the one you need," her voice rose higher, "I found you first! We belonged to each other since we were born!" She hiccupped unexpectedly before whispering, "you were mine first."

When she didn't get a response, she turned to him and thickly commanded, "Stop seeing her, Ranma. Stop, or else."

"Or else what, Ukyo?" Angry blue eyes flashed in her direction, and he was in front of her in a blink of an eye. He growled out, "Is that a threat?"

Ukyo backed away, surprised more with herself than at Ranma's reaction. "No. No. No, no, no," she mumbled.

"Are you going to murder her, Ukyo?"

Ukyo whipped around and ran from the apartment.

Kiss me, kiss me many times,  
I'm so afraid I will lose you,  
Lose you later on

He slammed down his cup and let out a long belch. He wiped his mouth with his forearm and tiredly leaned on the counter. "I tell you, friend, that boy of mine is going to drive me to the grave at an early age," Genma sighed.

The man behind the bar, Takeshi Kuonji, looked on sympathetically. The basement was relatively quiet for the evening. Speakeasies, such as this one, were slowly disappearing ever since prohibition ended two years ago. But Takeshi was fond of his little bar and didn't have the heart to shut it down, at least not when he still had a few loyal patrons. Patrons like… Genma Saotome, though he hadn't paid for a drink in the past fifteen years.

"You talk as if you're still young!" Takeshi laughed jovially, "your early days are long gone, Genma." He received an incoherent grumbled response.

"Why couldn't he just settle with your girl?" Genma whined, "Ukyo, was it? Great gal. Nice, young Japanese woman, perfect for him."

"Hai, a fine match, if I say so myself," his life-long friend nodded.

"It's that no good Chinese brat," Genma spat distastefully. "She's clinging onto him, using him. Typical Chinese slut." He slammed his fist on the bar.

"I know what you mean," Takeshi nodded, "my own daughter is having problems with a Chinese merchant guy." He tossed the dishtowel over his shoulder and leaned on his elbow on the counter. "A week ago, she comes here ranting like a maniac about some 'blind' Chinese guy who delivered her furniture late, apparently, because he was too occupied rolling in the hay with some Chinese girl…had a weird name, too…" Takeshi rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think her name was Sham…Shampoo?"

Genma froze mid-drink.

I want to have you very close to me  
To see myself reflected in your eyes  
To see you close to me

Her nose wrinkled in revulsion at the sight of the boarding house. Water marks skid down the side of the three story house, and broken windows covered with newspapers shined in the setting sun. The entire house creaked and moaned with age. But Mu Tsu told her to stay here, the place where most of his girls stayed before being sold off to the unknown. She wasn't stupid. She knew some of the girls were actually kidnapped victims.

Akane walked upstairs to the third floor to her 'room.' Bony girls with bags under their eyes, sat in the hallways in front of their doors, staring at her vacantly. A cigaretted balanced between their fingers, and a bottle of cheap wine clutched in their other hand, they sat unmoving, like a photo. Their hollow gaze trailed after her as she walked by to enter her room at the end of the hall. She supposed, as she stepped into the cubicle room big enough to fit one mattress, this was better than sleeping in the alleys and picking food from the trash.

"Stay here till I call for you," he had said. She requested to be sold to one of Kuno's brothels, and he replied a girl in her position couldn't afford to make such requests. But she insisted anyway. He left her without any promises.

Thinking that perhaps by tomorrow  
I'll already be far away  
Very far from here.

"You wanted to see me?" Ukyo asked and looked over him with half-lidded, cool eyes. He wasn't her most favored person, but he was Ranma's father. And contrary to popular belief, Ranma did respect and perhaps even love his father.

"Yes, your father mentioned something very peculiar the other day," Genma clasped his hands together, and peered at her curiously. His face was stoic, a businessman's face, but his eyes grinned with unrestrained glee. "Something you said."

"What is it?"

"Something about a girl named Xian Pu and her sordid affair with a man other than my son," he eyed her and watched as her whole posture changed. She turned fully facing him.

"Why, yes," she smirked, "I did say that."

"Do you have proof by any chance?" he asked bluntly, seeing no point in beating around the bush.

"No," she paused, "but that can be easily arranged with your help."

* * *

**End notes:**

Shed No Tears before Coffin – a Chinese proverb, basically means that the person "will not give up an inevitably losing battle until the last minute. It is a burlesque of the stubbornness and stupidity of people who would not stop until it is too late."

uh i know things maybe confusing but, it'll all come together in the end... i hope...

this takes place in a certain point in history of America. You don't have to be a history buff or anything, I hate history. But just know that I didn't make anything up, except for the storyline. So… my point is, there will be racism and prejudice in this fiction, but they are not by any account my opinions or views.


	3. Saotome Genma

Chapter three: Saotome Genma

Ukyo laughed. In her very hands were pictures, pictures that would bring back what belonged to her. Though, what would ever possess a man to chase after a purple haired circus freak was beyond her. However, proof of Chinese men's weird tastes lay in her very hands, Chinese men like Zha Mu Tsu to be exact.

It had been very easy to track them down. Largely because Mu Tsu, that fool, had told her everything: where they ate, where they slept, and where they dated. He had absolutely no reason to suspect that she of all people, his best customer, would use such information to her benefit.

And too further keep her hands clean, she had Genma hire a private eye to supply the photographs on that grounds that if she hired a man, the press would undoubtedly find out from a leak, heightening Ranma, Xian Pu, and Mu Tsu's triangle love affair to a media frenzy. Logically, Ranma's reputation would be marred from ever obtaining a respectable Japanese housewife. Pity.

Outside her office, mambo music shook the foundation boosting her mood. As manager of her uncle's club, Blue Yokohama, she spent most of her nights lingering among the guests and keeping an eye on the business. She loved her job, more so because women of her age were usually stuck doing menial work such as sales girls, hostesses, or prostitution. In Blue Yokohama, the cat's meow of upper Manhattan, the Ritziest joint in the city, she was the most desirable bachelorette to single and married men everywhere.

Why deny the obvious? She loved her money. Well, actually her Uncle Kuno's money. And without an official heir on his part, the next logical person to succeed his empire was herself. Ukyo giggled with glee.

Lush brown locks pooling over her shoulders, sharp collar bones, smooth shoulders, slim waist, and slender legs accentuated by her sleek white body-hugging gown that ran just below her knees oozed with class and wealth. Diamond earrings and a necklace completed her attire with diamond studded slip-ons donning her feet. She was certainly everything that Chinese bitch was not, the better end.

The photos were slipped in an envelope, and she tossed them into the drawer of her desk. She poured herself a glass of celebratory wine and swallowed it in one gulp. This wine would taste much sweeter, she thought, if there was someone to share it with.

A knock on her door brought smile to her face. Looked like the gods were working in her favor tonight.

"Come in!"

A burly young man in a simple black suit filled her doorway. He leaned to the side, crossing his arms, and grinned roguishly, sharp fang-like teeth winking in the light.

"Ryouga!" She squealed and ran over, leaping into his arms. She exaggeratedly smacked her lips against his and giggled. "Boy, honey, do you have great timing or what?" She led him over to her bottle of wine. "I was just thinking how sad it was for me to finish this bottle by myself."

Ryouga gladly accepted the offered drink. "Your Uncle Kuno's here."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I got promoted."

She almost dropped her glass, which would've been a shame since it was a very rare and obnoxiously expensive wine. It surprised her that Kuno actually upped one of his bodyguards. That meant Ryouga was one step closer to the highest paid and highly respected position as Kuno's personal bodyguard. He had been eager for the opportunity since he joined the gang six years ago. Ukyo thought it funny that he would exhibit such selfless loyalty and devotion for a stranger like Kuno. The young-ones under Ryouga looked up to him as an older brother to her amusement, following his every beck and call.

"How's that Ranma of yours?" Ryouga cut to the chase. Ever since he joined the gang, he and Ukyo got along famously well and often lent an ear to her prattling. One of the most prevalent topics of conversation just happened to be her obsession with Ranma. He never did figure out why she was so infatuated with the pigtailed worker boy, but apparently this Ranma had some irresistible charm. As irresistible as a mule, Ryouga added.

"He was misguided for awhile," she drawled, "but I think he'll be right back on track soon." A furtive smirk stretched her lips behind the rim of her glass.

Ryouga, obviously, had no idea what she was talking about but nodded anyway. He took a step back and gave her a once over. She preened under his gaze.

"Lookin' good!" He mused. "Is that a new dress?"

"Why, how clever of you to notice," she giggled, "isn't it the berries? It cost a fortune along with my Tiffany's diamond necklace." She brushed off an imaginary piece of lint off her shoulder.

He snorted and shook his head, "One of these day, you're not gonna have your uncle's money to spend as you please."

Ukyo headed out the door to see Kuno, saying over her shoulder, "You slay me, baby."

Well no one told me about her  
The way she lied  
Well no one told me about her  
How many people cried

"Ranma?"

"Hmm?" He raised his eyebrows but kept his eyes on the newspaper. It featured an article on the life and times of the infamous Al Capone from Chicago, quite a distance from New York City. He had never been there, but the stories from the windy city were wild with crime, booze, and corruption. Not very different from New York City. What were the feds doing, he mused.

"Ranma."

He figured Capone in Chicago had rivaled Kuno, here, in Manhattan. The man, allegedly responsible for hundreds of gang related murders, bootlegging, prostitution of women, and millions worth of gambling, who in the end finished with sixty million dollars, was found guilty of _tax evasion_! Ranma snorted.

Yes, and Ted Kuno was a fifth grade bully who beat the snot out of kids for their lunchboxes.

"Ranma!"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he folded up the paper and tossed it to the side, "What, Xian Pu?"

She chewed on her bottom lip and studied him. It had been half a year, now, about 6 months of sneaking against the wishes of everyone around them. The young lovers did everything under the sun together and absurdly, at last, ran out of things to do. Hence, they sat at a small diner further downtown from Chinatown, away from prying eyes. He read the newspaper while, across the table, she lazily sipped cheap wine, daydreaming out the window.

The silence eventually grew too heavy for him to tolerate.

"What! What is it?" He watched her idly play with her hair. Shrouded eyes locked onto his, and a frown made its way onto his face. Lately, she acquired a habit of masking her features and asking weird questions. Just the other day she had asked about his family history, where his father came from and why they came to America. Personal questions weren't part of the deal, thought Ranma. They dated, they had fun, and they pleasured each other.

He grew more frustrated with her tendency to switch from hot to cold and cold to hot with a flick of her wrist. A week ago, they had been melting together in the bed of a motel, and in the heat of the moment, she flung him off and proceeded to bawl her eyes out. He had been aggravated to say the least. He could barely make out the words she sobbed out, but they sounded like "disown…shame…poor…and sex." He had tried talking to her, to find out what had been bothering her for the past few days. She merely shook her head and murmured that it wasn't worth the trouble. He didn't know how to respond.

And now, he just knew she was going to pop another ridiculous question that will once again catch him off guard.

"Do you love me?"

He hated being right.

Sighing, he reached over the table to hold her hands in his warm ones. She still regarded him with uneasy eyes, chewing her bottom lip. "Why?" Ranma asked instead.

Xian Pu averted her gaze to the window. How could she tell him of the strain and anguish she went through every night as her overbearing grandmother continued to harass her about him? In her old age, Cu Lon no longer bothered to tame her words and spewed hurtful words about her granddaughter and her lover. After almost a year, hurtful words turned into curses and physical pain, beating Xian Pu with her cane and sometimes resorting to slapping. For such a small woman, she remained strong and fit from a lifetime of martial arts training. And it would be disastrous and insolent for Xian Pu to defy her grandmother in self defense or, worse, to hit back.

She just wanted to know.

"Do you love me?" She pressed.

A light jazzy tune sung by Ella Fitzgerald played in the background under the chattering of customers in the busy diner. Clink and clanks from where steel forks and knives met with generic porcelain plates surrounded the couple. A small boy in tan overalls and a tilted newsboy cap with wisps of dirty blonde hair draped along his forehead sat backwards in his chair, a lollipop rolling in his mouth, and stared at them unnervingly. His mother was occupied wiping applesauce dripping from the mouth of the infant on her lap.

Ranma cleared his throat and withdrew his hands from hers. Avoiding her eyes, he hummed and hawed, "Of course, baby, you know I do."

"Say it."

Uncomfortably, he coughed and anxiously looked around the diner. Well, if it made her happy then…

"I love ya."

Her face brightened for a fleeting second before it returned to the same imploring expression. The little boy had turned around, his back facing them. He seemed to have lost interest in the couple.

"Really?" Xian Pu asked.

"Yeah," he shrugged, "sure." Ranma silently wondered if Al Capone had a girl.

Well no one told me about her  
The way she lied  
Well no one told me about her  
How many people cried

He supposed he would've, could've despised his father had he known any other fathers. However, Genma was the only parental figure he had, considering his mother, Nodoka, passed away after childbirth.

Genma and Nodoka left for the land of the free in the early 1900s. Nodoka had insisted on going to America, wanting a better life for her baby boy. Genma reluctantly left their dojo in Japan and with his wife, during her tremulous months of pregnancy, arrived at Ellis Island. Luckily for them, he had kept in touch by mail with a childhood friend, Takeshi Kounji who resided in New York City. When they met up with him in the busy streets of the city, they were surprised to see him holding a one-year-old baby girl in his arms, Ukyo. He helped them attain a small room in a boarding house, at least until Genma landed a job and eventually moved to a small apartment.

His father explained, his mother was much too small and much too weak. They couldn't afford the hospitals, and the local doctors would rather perform brain surgery than aid a Japanese family. No midwives were available since the Saotomes had just arrived to America. Thus, all night husband and wife supported each other and together embraced the birth of Ranma Saotome. Days later, Genma wept for the first time silently as he knelt in front of his wife's grave, Ranma in his arms.

Genma and Takeshi raised their children together. Ranma supposed he admired his father if only for remaining uncharacteristically loyal to his deceased wife, along with his friend. The two old men merely wasted their days drinking in the speakeasy, and Genma working only when he was the brink of starvation.

Genma was fat and lousy, but he seemed to have the best intentions, or Ranma liked to think so for his own sake. Despite his shortcomings, Genma rigorously trained him in Anything Goes Martial Arts as heir to the Saotome School of Indiscriminate Grappling. He felt that was one of his father's redeeming qualities.

Ukyo as a little girl often joined his training, but soon conformed to the ways of other teenagers, engaging herself in clothing, music, jewelry, and of course, celebrity crushes such as Rudolf Valentino. Ranma had laughed at her, calling her stupid for fawning over a white man. She stopped gushing rather abruptly, and instead, she concentrated on her studies, growing up to be a very intelligent young lady. Once she finished college, her uncle suddenly appeared at her door and named her manager of one of his prominent clubs, Blue Yokohama.

Much to his discomfort, Genma and Takeshi began badgering him about marriage and the prospect of Ukyo becoming his wife. He entertained the idea for awhile seeing nothing better out there. Both fathers proudly observed their kids as they grew closer and closer. As they cheered and drank happily at the bar, Ukyo came every night to cook dinner for Ranma, who in return, walked her home. She purposely left her white Cadillac V-16 Phaeton in her garage.

Then as the days carried on, she started coming over tipsy from the club, reeking of cigar smoke. Her modest grey tinted skirts worn at offices were discarded for flashy silk and satin dresses, gowns, and fur coats. Diamonds hung from every limb, and heavy makeup obscured her youthful face. And worst of all, she hung onto him, her breath toxic from alcohol intake, and attempted to seduce him.

He hailed a cab and sent her home.

Those nights were never spoken of between the two, and for the sake of his father, Ranma continued to humor the idea of marrying Ukyo. Whereas, Ukyo became more adamant in making it happen. He couldn't fathom why.

"Son, where are you going?"

Ranma sighed. Everyone these days wanted to know where he was going, where he had been, and where he wanted to be. Going to work was beginning to become a luxury, where no one minded what he did as long as he got things done.

"No where, pop," he replied. "I'm just going to take a walk."

"Are you going to see that Chinese girl, again?"

"Actually," he mused, "I'm not. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to see her tomorrow."

Genma rubbed his face tiredly. Son or not, sometimes he felt the overwhelming need to beat the ever-loving crap out of Ranma with a frying pan. "Boy, I'm telling you, stop seeing her." He raised a hand, silencing Ranma's opened mouth. "I know you think you love her. You may think she loves you. But trust me, your father, trust me when I say she doesn't love you. What is it about her that you love besides her body?"

Ranma stared at the floor blankly.

"If not for me, for your mother," Genma added. "For your mother, who risked her life so that you can have a better one. For her sake, find yourself a nice loving Japanese wife, and settle down. This fling you have with her is dishonorable and filthy. Unacceptable to our family name. You bring shame, shame to your mother's grave, boy."

Father and son sighed in unison, troubled by their own thoughts.

"It's for your own good," Genma muttered gruffly. "I know what Ukyo has become, and that is why you found another girl."

Ranma glanced at his father, surprise etched across his face.

"But she'll change," he said, "she'll change for you. You've grown up together, she knows all about you. What you like, dislike, what you want. And, let's face it, she's filthy rich. She'll make you happy and comfortable." Genma paused. "And I'll be damned before I go to the grave without seeing you happy first. It…it was your mother's dying wish. Something as simple as seeing you happy. But you're making it so difficult."

With wide eyes, he stared at his father speechlessly. Panic washed over him witnessing his father in a rare emotional state. His father never talked about his wife unless he was feverishly plastered. But seeing that Genma was sober, for once, Ranma considered his words seriously, contemplating his next course of action.

Ranma closed the door and shrugged off his jacket.

"You're wrong about one thing, pop."

Genma looked up at him.

"She'll never change. She can't change."

But it's too late to say you're sorry  
How would I know?  
Why should I care?

Xian Pu lay on the bed, its satin sheets soothing her skin, and she stared vacantly at the ceiling with her thick locks fanned out underneath her. Atop her naked form, Mu Tsu rested his head upon her chest with his arms wrapped loosely around her waist. Her hand came up to her lips and she breathed in her cigarette, his head rising along with her chest, and sinking back down as she exhaled slowly. The arm swung back down, limply hanging over the edge of the bed.

She came to the undeniable conclusion that Ranma was indeed a better lover than Mu Tsu. Making love to Ranma resembled a wild sea storm, uncontrollable, powerful, consuming all her senses till she felt as if she were flying above the clouds. While Mu Tsu bordered on a drizzle of tickling raindrops and the gentle sway of the ocean waves, with no ultimate crest. Although, she had to admit, something about Mu Tsu's touch, his fingers lightly tracing every curve of her body as if worshipping her, certainly felt more passionate. And his soft lips trailing down her body soft as butterfly wings had her squirming with delight. Too bad his drive didn't live up to his warm up.

A sparkling gold choker with a large jade pendant encircled her neck. A large grin grew on her face at the thought. Zha Mu Tsu may not be much in bed, but his refined taste in gifts made up for everything. In her apartment, the closet was already lined up with imported silk Chinese gowns, a new jade bracelet for her grandmother, and marvelous gold jewelry scattered across her vanity.

And she would never tire of stretching out on the satin sheets of his bed in his ritzy apartment. He even had rose petals randomly dispersed on the bed, on the floor, and around the room. The musky scent of sex and incense lingered in the air.

A vision of cerulean eyes flashed across her mind, and she jerked.

She twisted to lie on her side, forcing Mu Tsu to slide off. He grumbled in protest, but flopped himself on the other side of the bed in his sleep. City lights filtered in from the window, illuminating her figure.

She sluggardly stood up and walked over to a full-length mirror. Shadows brushed across her naked body, caressing her skin with feathery touches. Her eyes traveled down from her face to the glittering gold around her neck. Long slender fingers ran across the cool metal, lingering on the smooth jade.

A shallow breath escaped her parted lips, her violet eyes entranced by the shine of yellow.

Please don't bother trying to find her  
She's not there

He noticed her crossing the street, heading in the opposite direction. Hoping to go unnoticed, he swiveled his face away from her and walked by mutely. But a hand grabbed his elbow, tugging his body towards her. Reluctantly, he faced her.

"Where have you been?" Xian Pu asked softly.

He wanted to laugh. The two of them standing in the middle of the street, being shoved and pushed from all directions, and all he wanted to do was laugh.

"You know, I've been asked that thirty times this past week," he said instead. Seeing that she didn't catch the humor, he answered, "I've been busy."

Her hand remained on his sleeve, and she tugged distractedly. "Will you," a pause, "will you come over tonight?"

Gently, he disengaged himself from her clutch, "Not tonight."

"But…"

"Not tonight," he shook his head slightly. Without looking back, he left her standing in the street.

Ranma stuffed his hands in his pockets, walking briskly down the street past the blank faces and shabby shops. Every once in awhile, his step faltered when he recalled the grief-stricken face on Xian Pu. But he kept walking. And then, he was strolling. Soon after, he found himself whistling, his feet forming a strange new gait. The wind playfully ruffled his hair, and ladies blushed becomingly as he greeted them in the streets.

A month had gone by, and May came rolling in along with the unrelenting blistering sun and warm sticky winds carrying grime and dust from the corners of the city. And in the evenings, the North wind swept away the clouds of dirt and cooled the streets.

He arrived along a line of small apartments no more than fives stories high made with worn down red bricks. Various articles of off-white clothing hung on wires across the gutters between buildings. On the stairs of each building, numerous empty milk bottles cluttered the steps. One of the buildings had a set of stairs leading down to the basement, and Ranma followed the steps to a rusty metal door. Without knocking, he turned the knob and invited himself him.

"There he is!" A voice rang out. "The heir to the School of Indiscriminate Grappling!"

Ranma scoffed at his obviously drunk father, "Come on, pops, we're not in Japan," but he grinned proudly. "Uncle Takeshi," he greeted and accepted the offered cup.

"How you've been, son?" Takeshi queried as he poured into Ranma's cup, "Haven't seen you around lately."

"Swell," Ranma shrugged good-naturedly, "Been doin' the usual, working, job searching, jazzing, and hanging along." He puffed out his chest and in a lower baritone, he mocked, "I'm a free man now, Uncle. And richer, too, without her draining my wallet." He took out his wallet and pulled out a five dollar bill. "Got my paycheck today. Here's the payment for my father's drinks and my own."

Takeshi laughed and waved away the bill, "Like I'd ever accept your money, kid," he smirked, "why don't you take my daughter out for a nice evening instead."

"A fine idea," Genma interjected.

He stuffed his money in his back pocket and shrugged again, "Sure, why not." With a wave, Ranma headed out of the gin mill.

After the door shut behind him, Takeshi turned to Genma, all humor wiped from his face. "Did you show him the pictures yet?"

Genma shook his head solemnly, "No," he replied, "I thought it best if he didn't know." He motioned for another drink. "Besides, he's already broken off with her, why bring up the past?"

"So what are you going to do with the pictures?"

"Well, Ukyo already has a copy of them for backup, just incase."

"And yours?"

"We'll see," Genma sat back on his chair, "I'm gonna make sure that dirty sleazy Chinese quiff never hounds my son again."

Well no one told me about her  
Well no one told me about her  
How many people cried

"It's better this way."

Silence answered her.

"I warned you! I told you they were deceitful! All the Japanese!"

Still no response came from the closed door.

"They only use you! He used you!" Cu Lon continued from outside Xian Pu's room.

She listened silently to the heart-wrenching cries of her granddaughter. It wasn't loud and ostentatious, nor was low and bittersweet. Broken moans and violent coughs muffled by the closed door disturbed the silence throughout the night. Xian Pu, who had depended and trusted her grandmother with her life, had locked herself away from the world and cried those tears alone.

And she could do nothing but listen, listen as the burning vile hatred for a young Japanese boy festered and boiled in her old-age heart. Cu Lon cursed and slowly trudged back to the living room.

Xian Pu paused, listening to Cu Lon's slippers drag across the floor. If only they were left alone to be happy. If only no one else bothered them. If only the two of them existed. If only…

Fury raged against her chest so violently, it hurt to keep it all in. Curled up on her unkempt bed, she fingered the crumpled photos lying around her, hundreds of them, all of her and Mu Tsu's rendezvous. A small winkled note lay on top of the glossy pictures. An unrecognizable handwriting scrawled two words only:

_He knows.  
_

But it's too late to say you're sorry  
How would I know?  
Why should I care?

"Yes may I help you?"

"I'm here to see Kuno."

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, this is… an emergency."

"One moment please."

But it's too late to say you're sorry

Ranma trudged up the stairs, leaning heavily on the railing. Work today had been hell. A whole day of lifting pounds of frozen slabs of fish back and forth from the trucks to the factory could take a toll even on King Kong, he thought humorlessly. And the foul smell of fish and sea seeped into his skin. He grumbled intent on finding a better job and sloppily opened the door to his apartment. He frowned and flicked on the lights. "Pop? I'm home."

How would I know?

"What brings you to my humble abode, Zha?"

"Kuno, I am in dire need of a favor that only you can provide."

"And that is?"

"To cover-up a murder, a double homicide."

"I see."

Why should I care?

Ranma walked into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of milk. A soft breeze filtered from the small window. A small frown marring his forehead, he walked over to the window and stuck his head out. The fire escape directly under it creaked but remained empty. Ducking back in, he slammed the window shut and closed the binds. Shrugging to himself, he entered the living room. A low crone of a man singing drifted from the radio and Ranma switched it off. A heavy silence settled in the air. He wrinkled his nose as his skin prickled at the back of his neck and down his spine. He glanced at the closed door that led to his father's bedroom.

Ignoring the alarms coursing through his veins, he nudged open the door and peered inside. His father lay in bed, still in his outdoor clothes. Ranma moved to close the door but paused. He crept closer to the sleeping figure. But then again, his father was never a silent sleeper. And, his father never slept with his eyes opened. Ranma loomed over his father and studied his pale stone-cast face. Denial pumping through his rapidly beating heart, Ranma choked.

Please don't bother trying to find her

Xian Pu drew in a shaky breath, unable to tear her eyes away from her grandmother's prone form. She delicately placed her forefinger under her grandmother's nose, concentrating on her touch. No brush of air touched her finger. Her grandmother wasn't breathing. Choking back a sob, Xian Pu scrambled away from the futon until her back roughly hit the wall. Her bloodless fingers desperately clutched a pillow, her head shaking wildly. Burying her face into the cushion, she screamed.

She's not there

"The murder of Saotome Genma and Lao Cu Lon."

"And what will I gain from this?"

Zha Mu Tsu stepped aside revealing a small young woman from behind him. Her eyes downcast andher bangs draping over her face and shoulders, she avoided Kuno's piercing gaze. Her fingers tightened around the handle of her suitcase unnoticeably. Mu Tsu cleared his throat, "This is Akane, Tendo Akane," he introduced, "she's been eager to meet you."

She's not there…

His fists clenched and unclenched spastically, as if eager to inflict harm. Without thought, it went flying into the wall, pieces of plaster falling at his feet. Slowly, he withdrew his arm trying to control his breathing. Unable to spare his father another look, he walked out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

Murders were not uncommon in the city. And most murders went unsolved, unresolved. Greatly due to the fact Kuno was behind most of the crimes. The NYPD was just a puppet to bring false security to the people. The city was, in fact, policed by Kuno's gang. Everybody knew that. Ranma knew that.

Thus, he knew exactly who find to avenge his father's murder.

He picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Ukyo? I need to find Kuno."

Shock laced her voice as she questioned his request on the other end.

"Because he knows who killed my father."

* * *

**End Notes:**

**Song lyrics:**

"About Her" by Malcolm McLaren (yeah yeah yeah, I know he's not a '30s musician, but the song just fit so well. So sue me! Nyah!)

**1930s slang:**

Berries - That which is attractive or pleasing

Quiff - a slut or cheap prostitute

gin mill – a speakeasy


End file.
